though?”
“I think it is a great idea Tom.” She smiled at how cheeky and honest he was, and how her worries of leaving Eric alone had been de-risked. “And of course, it depends if you’re fine with that Eric?”
“Oh I don’t know.” He said his head solemnly facing the meal.
“Oh, Why not?” Emma asked, a concerned look on her face. “Was it because of today?”
“No, not really.” He said in a very solemn and monotone voice. “Well, I’m not too sure if Tom will be upset when I beat him at something else, as I’m doing in the garage at the moment.” He lifted his head to show the huge grin on his face.
“Yeah right, we’ll see who can win on Kart later then after this.” Tom added.
“OK, so we’re agreed that Tom will stay here, and you two can continue the numerous challenges you’ve got to go at from pool to computer games.” She smiled. “So, I think it’s my turn to leave.” And left the room to flick on the evening news and see what tomorrow’s weather would bring.
The boys continued their banter while they munched, grabbing yoghurts for puddings, before dropping the plates and cutlery into the dishwasher. The boys raced through the lounge, charging up the stairs to Eric’s bedroom, which for the next 3 hours would be known as Games Central.
Emma merely smiled, knowing she’d have to go and finish off tidying up after them. She had given them instruction on placing their items in the dishwasher, but not on how t best load it. Not how to also put the salt pot and vinegar bottle away in the cupboard. Not on how to wipe the table down of all the crumbs. Not on who would be responsible for the plate both boys had taken the bread from. All of these were out of scope of the original request. Yet, as frustrating a half-hearted action as it was, Emma had learnt to smile at what she called a “minimal thought” action. They would do what was asked, but with the minimum of effort. If you didn’t ask them to do it, they’d not do it.
Truths.
“A very serious crime was committed yesterday afternoon.” Mr. Porter stood beside the lectern, defiant & determined. He was above the very point where, only the day before, Eric had sat playing mind games to keep himself occupied whilst trapped and then attacked. The Headmaster was a tall man, in his late forties with a thick head of wavy hair that had started to gain little salty specks around the temples. This was an unusual full assembly for a middle of the week, as it was on a rota basis, each year taking it’ turn, but as they entered the school grounds, by which ever route, including the back forbidden ones, a teacher had been there to greet them and tell them of the full Assembly at 8:30am.
Mr. Porter addressed everyone, from teachers and assistants, medical staff, to the caretaker and cleaners; and all stood in silence as he spoke. “I promise you all that those involved will be suspended.”
A gentle murmur of voices went around the room as whispered names were passed between pupils. The ones nearest to Eric glanced at him, knowing that he’d been the victim, presumed by the bruising around his eyes, and the cut lips that he’d wore, a defiant look in his eyes to show he wouldn’t be beaten by them.
Eric hadn’t seen everyone looking at him, as he and Tom had looked at each other in horror, both coming to the same conclusion that Tom had seen Trevor Miller’s face, and that would be enough to at least get him caught, and maybe expelled.
Mrs. Borand, the deputy head, stood on the stairs leading up to the stage, which gave her the advantage of being able to look across everyone in the room. A very formidable looking and neatly dressed petite lady in her mid-fifties, she had taught Biology for over 30 years, working her way up through to subject head, to year head, and finally to her current position as Mr. Porter’s first deputy. Renowned for being quite forceful and vocal in her classes, she now loudly cleared her throat to return everyone to order.
“This sort of tomfoolery is far beyond a playground prank.” Mr. Porter continued. “And we do not condone those actions in any shape or form.” He waited a moment to let everything he’d said so far sink in to the pupil’s ears. “Mrs. Borand will lead the investigation along with the help of Mr. Jackson, who is a…” He hesitated for a second as he looked at the tall, well-built man at the back of the room, who had entered after everyone else, and had stayed there, leaning casually into a corner.
The Headmaster continued to conjure up the correct title he wanted to use, thinking of the surreal telephone conversation he’d had the evening before with a well-known Parliamentary Member, telling him in his own words “that Mr. Jackson will be joining your little task force of highly skilled educators to give any assistance and advice.” With those thoughts in his mind, he decided to change tack. “Yes, Mr. Jackson is here to assist and give advice to Mrs. Borand in the full investigation which will take place.” He nodded to give his cue to join him.
Everyone’s head whipped round, including the teachers, none of them noticing the man who had sneaked in behind them. They all watched as he made his way to the front, a mixture of intrigue and awe in everyone’s eyes. Apart from the Head and Mrs. Borand, no one else seemed to know who he was, but there was something about him that commanded respect. Smartly dressed in a well-tailored suit, he arrived on the stage and stood next to the Mr. Porter, who suddenly seemed a little smaller in everyone’s eyes, such was Mr. Jackson’s presence. He took his time while the Headmaster continued to slowly and carefully study each and every pupil in the room, stopping for an instant longer when his eyes met Eric’s.
“Yes, Mr. Jackson, who is a specialist consultant.” The headmaster, who had also been watching this new person intently, turned back to the school with a faint smile on his face, amused by his choice of words.
Mrs. Borand did her growl-cough to bring everyone back to order.
The Headmaster then continued the assembly, giving the usual round up of news and promotions of upcoming sporting and social events before concluding.
Eric and Tom slipped off to class not saying a word to each other, both still in deep shock.
Halfway through the lesson, the door burst open and everyone turned to see Mrs. Borand march in.
Eric looked through the open door and noticed that Mr. Jackson was in the Hallway, watching him carefully, a glimmer of a smile on his face. This unnerved Eric a little.
Mrs. Borand merely nodded to the teacher, Miss Davies, who was teaching Geography, and who looked quite intimidated by the Deputy Head, who had intruded into her lesson.
“Eric Peterson?” Mrs. Borand barked as she scanned the room.
Eric had watched them walk in, and saw that Mr. Jackson had been looking directly at him from the moment the door opened. On hearing Mrs. Borand call his name, he immediately stood up, already knowing he was about to be interrogated.
The entire class watched him weave a careful and haphazard path through the desks, their eyes transfixed on him, unable to look away, like watching a fly being drawn into a web.
“Thank you.” Mrs. Borand nodded to the teacher.
Miss Davies didn't see that, she was also watching Eric’s fate, fearing for him as he left the room.
Nobody moved in the class, listening to the three sets of shoes walking away as the door closed on the sound, but igniting their imaginations.
They walked in silence along the school corridors until stopping outside Mrs. Borand’s office. She unlocked the door before entering, which Eric found a little unusual, as it was normally left open, even when she was in class teaching. Yet, they all remained silent until all in the compact room, and she closed the door behind them.
“Please, take a seat.” Smiling, she waved her hand across a pair of matching chairs that were placed neatly against the left hand wall of the office. The adjacent back wall contained the only window looking out over the back of the school towards the small stream that ran along the valley floor. On the window shelf were various plastic parts of the human anatomy; all were faded with sun damage. Below it was an old single radiator
which had passed its desire for a lick of paint, as the small bubbles of rust would testify to. The desk was wedged halfway along the radiator, jutting into the centre of the office heading back towards the door. Behind it was a wall of shelves, crammed with various textbooks, learning guides, government papers and medical magazines. On the wall leading back to the door was a small cupboard, which had a tray on top where the round chrome kettle stood. Next to it were 2 cups; both had pictures of cats on them. The wall above was covered in academic accolades of various sorts, all in similar pine frames.
“So Eric.” Mrs. Borand's, normally strong voice was rather hushed and gentle in this private place. “Firstly, can you please describe everything that happened yesterday, from your point of view.”
Eric relayed the events in as logical and chronological order as he could, making sure he missed nothing. He made sure he clearly stated that he had also seen Trevor Miller’s face when Tom pulled the boy's hood back. He also added that he would have assumed that the other two were probably Dave Jones and John Armer.
Mrs. Borand took notes throughout the whole process, adding in various nods and little sounds of agreement during his tale. “Thank you Eric.” She concluded the notes before placing her pencil carefully on the desk and lacing her